


A Study in Coffee

by therunawaypen



Series: Sherlock Tumblr Prompt Fills [39]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Gen, Murder, Reader Insert, barista, writer insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mornings are just too early sometimes, and all you want is a cup of coffee.</p><p>Too bad the barista is out to kill you and Sherlock Holmes is on the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I wrote this reader-insert to celebrate 400 followers on Tumblr.
> 
> Enjoy!

There was just something about mornings that seemed to drag on forever. And damn if they didn’t come all too soon after going to bed. Though to be honest, you probably went to bed (as in sleep) later than you should have.  There had just been so many _things_ that kept you from wanting to sleep.

But there was nothing for it now, morning was here and you needed a drink. A caffeinated drink and a hot one at that, considering it was the end of January.

The coffeeshop was busy that morning, but you didn’t mind, while you waited for your order to come up, you could get some work done. So you decided to snag one of the overstuffed armchairs in the corner of the shop and took out your work. Really, this should have been finished last night, but…well, you were working on it now, and that was what mattered.

After a while (you weren’t really paying attention to the clock), your eyes caught sight of a blue apron. Looking up, you could clearly see the barista holding your cup.

“Sorry it took me so long.” She smiled, handing over the cup, “I hope you weren’t in too much of a hurry.”

You smile, “Nah, no hurry, just trying to wake up.”

“I know the feeling.” The barista chuckled, “Enjoy!” With that, she turned and returned behind the counter to finish other orders.

Now that you had your coffee, you could be on your way. Gathering your things, you made your way out of the shop, nodding to the old man who was reading the daily newspaper (he was always there, reading the paper—today’s issue featured a string of murders that had occurred over the past few months).

You had barely gotten three steps outside the shop when your arm was firmly grabbed, nearly knocking you off balance.

“What on earth—”

“What did you order?” A deep voice demanded. Turning your head, you nearly came nose to nose with the man had leaned uncomfortably close into your personal space.

You blink, “ _What?”_

Another man cleared his throat, carefully pushing the towering man holding your arm to a more respectable distance, “He wants to know what kind of coffee you ordered. Please, it’s a bit important.”

Still stunned at the sudden interest in your morning coffee, you  shake your head, “It’s just a mocha…”

“With a shot of vanilla?” The tall man raised an eyebrow, sniffing at your cup.

“What? Well yes, but what—”

You didn’t get to say anything more before the man holding your arm snatched the cup out of your hand and threw it into the street.

“Hey!” You exclaim, because really, it seems only logical. But then again, nothing about this situation seemed logical.

“Sherlock…” The second man groans, “A bit not good…”

“We don’t have time for good, John.” Sherlock shook his head, leaning in close to you again, “Listen to me: there have been  several murders over the past few months, all of them poisoned. The only thing all the victims have in common is they all have receipts for this shop on the day of their deaths.”

Well _that_ was unsettling… “But why did you throw my drink away?”

“The poison.” John answered, trying to pull Sherlock away once more, “Or rather, poisons. There’s one in the chocolate, the other in the vanilla syrup. On their own, they do nothing, but together…”

Oh… _oh!_

“We’re wasting time.” Sherlock snapped, “Tell us, do you know which barista prepared your drink?”

You blink. You had been coming to this shop long enough to know exactly which barista, “There’s only one barista in this shop, she makes _every_ order.”

Sherlock wastes no time in letting go of your arm, “Hurry John, we need to catch that barista!”

With that, the two men race into the shop, leaving you dumbfounded. What the _hell_  just happened?

It takes a few minutes for your brain to catch up and recognize the two names being said. “Oh no way…” You mumble, pulling out your phone to check online.

You can only stare as you pull up a news article of “Hatman and Robin” and see the pictures of the men who had just semi-assaulted you. “That was Sherlock Holmes and John Watson…” Your jaw drops as the gravity of the situation hits you, “My barista just tried to _kill_ me!”

Well that’s enough adventure for one day. Forget whatever you had originally planned to do that day, attempted murder is a valid excuse to shirk responsibilities and go back home (and to bed, of course).

With that, you turn, making your way back to the metro station. What a waste of money this day has been.

It was rather monotonous, going through the same routine to head back home after going through the trouble of getting ready for the day. Well, it could have been worse. It could have been your last day alive.

Then you noticed the person in line next to you. The same person you’ve been seeing nearly every morning for the past few months. The apron is gone, but you recognize the dark blonde hair anywhere. For a moment, you can’t help but stare at the barista who, not even fifteen minutes ago, had tried to kill you.

How many times had she prepared your drink? From your usual fare to the seasonal treat, how many different kinds of orders had she prepared for you, all with a smile on her face.

How many times had she given you that same little send off?

_Enjoy!_

A shiver goes down your spine. And she had seemed so _innocent_ …

“Someone stop her!”

You look back, seeing the same two men from earlier (though now you know that they’re London’s most famous crime solving duo) running at full speed to the location you’re at. As you look back to the barista who nearly took your life, you realize she’s looking back at you, and your eyes meet. In that moment, those blue eyes, usually bright with laughter, are quite dark and narrow. There’s no smile on her face now, as she turns, ready to run.

 _Well fuck that idea_ , you think dryly, sticking your foot out and catching her off balance just enough to send her sprawling.

She isn’t down for long, but it’s long enough for Sherlock and John to catch up to her and grab her.

“Thanks for the help.” John smiles at you.

Part of you wants to celebrate, you did just help catch a serial killer after all. But another part… “Man, I need coffee…” you mumble.

“Perhaps tea would be a better option, considering the circumstances.” Sherlock commented drily.

You stare at him a moment, then to the homicidal barista he’s sitting on. Yeah, tea sounds better right now.


End file.
